I'll find something in what I read that snags my imagination in emotional terms; it resonates with me for reasons more complicated than just that it seems like it would make a good story.

The longer you go by yourself the weirder you get, and the weirder you get the longer you go by yourself.

Disasters occur organically in my work, in that that's the way my thinking tends, more than that's what I start out by planning. I'm sort of a catastrophist.

I think there's no question that historians create; they would tell you that, I think. If I'm trying to imagine an imperial Roman position, it's much easier to imagine the poor schlub who's not even sure why he's doing what he's doing than it is to imagine Caesar. At least for me. And I'm intrigued, too, by the position of the poor schlub who *still* finds himself supporting the imperial project.

Class is the most taboo subject in America. The American media would rather talk about race or perversion or anything else considered taboo before class.

I'm tempted to do everything. And sometimes I think, "Oh, come on. You can stick that detail somewhere."

I very much like people. I don't much like writers who don't.